


La Sal

by demon_dream



Category: Boku no Hero Academia
Genre: Alcohol, Bakugou Mitsuki Knows What She Wants, F/F, Gay Club, M/M, Making Out, Midoriya Inko is Adorkable, Save Her, Social Anxiety, a few tears, aw crap I think I scared her, beauty nerds, foreign exchange, in which Present Mic is that one gay best friend, it's nice biting though so it's cool, lesbian club, oh no she's hot, poking the closet door to discover it doesn't bite, sink or swim, take two: apply the handbrake you dumb broad, the old college try, throwing yourself into the deep end, vague references to Hizashi the cheerful village bicycle, wait I take it back this one bites, wingman Hizashi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-25
Updated: 2018-06-25
Packaged: 2019-05-28 07:14:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15043547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/demon_dream/pseuds/demon_dream
Summary: Inko goes on a foreign exchange trip to Spain in an attempt to break out of her mold. It doesn't go quite to plan.She doesn't think any plan she's ever made accounted for walking under a rainbow-painted garage door with a man who knows all of the words (and hip wiggles) to Beyonce's "Single Ladies".





	La Sal

    _Second week, second semester: still struggling to socialize._  
   Inko idly scribbled a frowny face in her planner, not really paying attention as she rolled the thought idly through her skull. She'd had such high hopes, after all. Tempered with reason, of course, but this was _Spain_. New country, new culture. A lot of extroverts crammed into one bowl-shaped valley, tourists and college students and refugees and pickpockets. She'd taken her chances and chosen a year of foreign study at the U of Granada in an effort to dive out of her safe little social rut back home. True, learning the language would be wonderful, and she loved the rolling lilt of the utterly unmouthable Andalusian accent. Her endgame was to become a better conversationalist in general. She _knew_ her reputation all through school, after all. Mousy, soft-spoken, fragile women might be traditional, but Inko Midoriya was not about to limit herself. She insisted on becoming the best.... well, the best Inko she could be. If that meant throwing her fragile and stuttering self headfirst into a foreign culture halfway around the globe, then so be it. How could she be sure that she was doomed to panic at the thought of asking someone a question for the rest of her life, if she'd never tried to go beyond her comfort zone? _Plus Ultra_. Never let it be said that she was a quitter.  
   Still. First semester had been a bust. She'd gone on every guided field trip with the foreign exchange program, initiated in group projects, figured out how to use this fancy communication app. Determined to get the full experience she'd signed on to live in a local's home, and the woman in question was an absolute delight. Proof positive of this was the warm hug she'd returned home to after an entire group of her fellow students had _stood her up_. She'd never been to a club, she was nervous, she may have had her keys folded between her knuckles the entire way to the meetup point. A group of fellow students had invited her, and she trusted them enough to keep her safe. After all, she really wasn't planning to drink. She'd jittered and dithered and hoped to high heaven her eyeliner looked okay, enough adrenaline in her veins that her ankles forgot to scream at her for wearing heels, and she'd gone to the park, and, and—  
   Choking this out to her monolingual guardian in broken, amateur Spanish had been enough drama that she nearly binned the whole idea. She could explore on her own just fine. Flamenco dancers in the street, beautiful architecture at every turn, museums and good food and better music. She could get lost in the clothing stores for _hours_. There was no need to actually... interact. She could stand still and let life flow around her.  
   No. No! There was an entire additional semester to wade through. She could handle people one-on-one, talking to teachers and waiters and the foreign exchange guardians was easy enough. Why could she never talk to others her age? She _would_ make progress, this was an opportunity and she wouldn't waste it by shivering in a corner. Well. She might, but at least she'd be shivering in a _public_ corner. Which was.... probably better? Theoretically. That whole theory about exposure therapy and "sink or swim" had to have a grain of truth to it. It had to!  
   Okay, she was sort of terrible at lying to herself, but she had to try. She was capable of making her peace with becoming a mouse for the rest of her life, but... not without this.  
   The lock on the front door rattled, and she jumped so hard her pen skittered across the planner and took a swan dive out the window. Inko watched it go, betrayed, and stood up to see if it was still in range of her quirk.  
   She didn't recognize the footsteps in the entrance.  
   She could see the pen (apparently she had a flowerbox below her window, very cute) and felt her quirk grip on, but most of her attention was on the thumping in the hallway. Labored breath, different timbre than her guardian, suitcase wheels?  
   ...a student? Abuelita did sometimes have other guests, since boarding students was her retirement pasttime. Normally there was a bit more warning. Keeping her psychic grip on the pen, Inko padded over to her doorway to peek through a crack near the jamb.  
   Definitely a student. Male, with a long sweep of blond hair and the kind of sunglasses that belonged in a terrible music video. Between the random bags slung over his torso and the spindly arm dragging along a suitcase big enough to hide a body, she could see a purple t-shirt and maybe some jeans. Tinny music blared from the earbuds draped over his shoulders. Safe enough, though appearances weren't all they were made out to be. He was obviously having a hard time with those bags.  
   Inko was having a hard time prying her feet from her spot, much less looking like anything other than a deer facing down a Jeep. Approaching? Talking? No, sorry, nobody's home. He wouldn't notice anyway with that music. She was clearly caught up in her... notes, yes, homework, a good excuse. Inko could talk later, when she wasn't mute from the stress of the idea.  
   Though she had to admit, choking on air as her lips twitched up, the sparkly yellow and lilac rhinestones on this boy's butt did wonders for her impending panic.

**Author's Note:**

> La Sal is, in fact, my favorite lesbian club in the history of ever. This is mostly me trying to get a handle on the characters in a familiar setting before I dump them into Like The Desert Needs Rain, and also I need more of this pairing. Win/win? Tell me what you think.  
> Title reference: to be revealed


End file.
